


Drifting Over the Edge

by muchmorethanaprincess



Series: We'll Figure It Out [2]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Ark AU, F/M, Minor Character Death, Parent Death, smut and plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4789637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmorethanaprincess/pseuds/muchmorethanaprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to my one-shot Supply Closets, which featured best friends with benefits (and some feelings) Bellamy and Clarke in an Ark AU. When Clarke's dad is unexpectedly floated, they're determined to find out what's going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drifting Over the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, this is a sequel to Supply Closets. That fic can stand alone or be the start to this, whichever you like. This fic still has a helping of smut, if that interests you, and does have a part two on the way.   
> The title comes from the song Fall, by Ed Sheeran, which is great for some Bellarke feels ;)  
> This fic is dedicated to everyone who told me they would like to see a continuation of Supply Closets. I have no idea if this is what you wanted, so I hope you like it!

Clarke learns that when things go bad, everything happens all at once.

A month after she says “we’ll figure it out,” in the supply closet, Octavia’s discovered, and their mother floated in a matter of hours. Clarke doesn’t even find out until the next morning, and then she’s running to Bellamy’s old apartment, his family’s old apartment, to find him sitting on the bed with a janitor’s uniform gripped in his hands.

He doesn’t look up when she enters and sits next to him.

“I have to clean out today. No use letting one person keep an apartment this big. I start work tomorrow,” he says, his voice gruff.

“I’ll help you,” Clarke says.

“God, Octavia-” he breaks off when his voice cracks, and Clarke puts her arm around his waist and leans her face against his shoulder. She doesn’t know how to handle something like this. She doesn’t know how to deal with grief.

“She’ll be reviewed at eighteen. She might be pardoned. She hasn’t actually done anything wrong.” She tries to keep her words firm, but she feels like she’s about to dissolve into tears watching Bellamy’s pain.

“She’ll be eighteen in two months, what if-” he cuts off again.

“You can’t think like that Bell. Right now, you have to think about moving. Okay, just moving?”

He nods. He doesn’t look any better than when she got here.

She spends the day packing his few belongings with him, sorting out the things that belonged to his mother and Octavia, which will be redistributed. She makes lunch and dinner, though she knows he isn’t hungry, she also knows he’ll eat. The thought of wasted food, after the meager rations he’s spent his entire life on, is repulsive to him.

In the evening, she asks him if he wants her to stay.

“No,” he shakes his head. “You should go home. Your parents will worry.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

His face is stony when he nods.

“And you’ll be okay?”

He must hear the doubt in her voice, because his face softens just a little.   
“I won’t do anything stupid, I promise.”

“Okay.” She kisses his temple, hugs him as tightly as she can, then turns to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

His night alone must have been worse than anticipated, because the next evening, he doesn’t wait for Clarke to offer, he just asks her to stay.

“Of course.”

“Your parents?”

“Uh, they um, they know about you now,” she says, and if it wasn’t under these circumstances, her voice would be sheepish.

“What happened?”

“Well I didn’t really have an explanation for why I freaked out when I heard about Octavia. My mom mentioned it over breakfast, that they had found a second child, and I ran straight here and then didn’t show up for my shift. So last night when I came home, she asked me what happened. I tried to lie for a while but she wouldn’t let it go and I figured that since we didn’t need to keep hiding our… well I was really mad so when she asked if I was seeing you, and she sounded all scandalized and horrified, I just screamed ‘yes, I’m fucking him, Mom!’ and then stormed out. So yeah, they know now.”

Bellamy almost smiles, _almost_ , and Clarke counts it as a victory.

“How’d your dad take it?” He asks softly.

“I think he was fine. He and my mom have been fighting lately, so it could have been that, but he didn’t participate at all when she was yelling at me. He asked me this morning if I would see you today.” She shrugs.

When they get into Bellamy’s new bed, it occurs to Clarke that this is the first time they’re going to be able to actually _sleep_ together. She wishes it were under better circumstances.

“I’m not-” he starts with a broken voice, like he thinks she might expect something from him.

“I know.” Clarke puts her hand on his arm, uses it to pull him down next to her. “I know, Bellamy.” She scratches her nails lightly over his back and feels him immediately soften against her. She doesn’t notice he’s crying until she feels the tears on her collarbone, and she just keeps scratching, feeling the hitch of his chest on a quiet sob.

When he turns over to face the wall, Clarke curls herself around him, her arm wrapping around his waist so her hand rests over his heart.

Ten minutes later, her mind racing with what could have happened, Clarke whispers, “I’m really glad you’re okay.” She thinks she feels him stiffen, but he could be asleep.

“I feel terrible about it, because Aurora’s dead and Octavia’s locked up, but they could have floated you too, and I’m probably the only person on the whole Ark who would have questioned it. I’m just really, really relieved that you weren’t punished. I mean you _were_ punished, you lost your position, you won’t be a guard now, but I’m just happy you’re not dead. I don’t know what I would have done if they floated you. I’m so glad you’re alive, Bellamy.”

He is awake, because only a second later his hand winds through hers, lacing their fingers together.

 

Clarke spends her nights with Bellamy from then on, and Wells knows this, which is why, a week later, he’s frantically pounding on Bellamy’s door at midnight. When Clarke opens it, standing in her pajamas, Wells glances quickly between her at the door and Bellamy still laying in bed.

“Your dad just got arrested,” he says, out of breath.

“What?”

“I don’t know what happened but he just got arrested and you need to hurry because they float adults who get arrested. So you need to come with me right now,” Wells says in a rush.

Bellamy’s already out of bed and pulling a shirt on.

“Let’s go,” he says when he’s at Clarke’s side. She feels like she’s in a daze, so he grabs her hand and pulls her into the hallway, running barefoot behind Wells.

They barely make it to the port in time, and Clarke rushes, sobbing, into her father’s arms.

“I don’t understand, what happened?” she cries.

“I can’t put you in danger,” he whispers into her ear.

“Dad, what’s happening?” she pleads.

He pulls away to give her his watch, and she can see a conflict warring on his face. He looks behind her, at Bellamy and Wells.

“Take care of her.”

“Yes, sir,” Wells says, sorrow on his face. Bellamy nods stonily.

“I don’t understand, this is a mistake, you haven’t committed a crime! What’s happening?” Clarke says through tears.

Jake hugs Abby, then moves back to hug Clarke one more time. “Talk to Kyle Wick in engineering,” he whispers, so low she almost misses it. “But be safe. Be careful. Nod if you understand.” She does, urgently, against his shoulder.

He pulls away, tells her he loves her. She says it back, feeling sick to her stomach, and then, within a moment, he’s on the other side of the port. And then he’s gone.

Wells keeps her from crumpling to the ground, but bent over with his arm around her waist and her hands planted on her knees, she pukes at their feet.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps, barely able to breathe around her tears.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he says easily.

“I’ll take her home, get her cleaned up,” Bellamy says.

Abby protests, says Clarke should go home with her, but the thought of their family apartment without her father makes her feel like retching all over again, so she shakes her head at her mother and grabs Bellamy’s hand. His tiny bed in his little apartment, where they’ve spent the last week holding each other while he grieved, feels like the only safe place on the entire Ark right now.

Still, when they start walking back to Bellamy’s apartment, Wells trailing behind them, she asks, “Are you sure it’s not too much for you right now?”

He turns a confused look to her, and she hiccups. “Are you sure _I’m_ not too much for you right now?”

“Don’t be stupid Clarke.” His voice is rough, but she hears the affection in it.

“Okay.”

When they reach Bellamy’s door, Wells turns to leave.   
“Wait,” Clarke says quietly. Her tears have stopped for a moment, but she’s sure they’ll be back soon. “My dad said- he said to talk to someone in engineering. Kyle Wick. But to be careful. You two will have to remember that, because I won’t.”

Wells looks to Bellamy, and they nod.

“We’ll look into it tomorrow,” he says.

Bellamy leads Clarke inside, where he strips off her puke spotted pajama pants and tucks her into bed in her underwear. He forces her to drink a glass of water.

And then he holds her as she cries for what feels like hours. The only words she can seem to manage are “I don’t understand.” She still doesn’t know how to deal with grief, even her own.

 

The next morning, Clarke’s eyelids are swollen from crying, and she feels it every time she blinks, a physical reminder that last night wasn’t just a terrible dream.

Bellamy makes her breakfast, but she can only get down a few bites on her turning stomach.

“We don’t have to do anything today, if you don’t want to,” he says, but Clarke shakes her head immediately.

“No, we need to find out what happened. I need to go see my mom, anyway.”

When Wells shows up, he tells them that Kyle Wick is an engineer in his twenties, who worked with Jake on occasion, though there’s nothing pointing to any particular connection.

When Clarke speaks to her mother, Abby is evasive and confusing, though as a council member, she must know why her husband was floated. Clarke feels worse than before, and goes back to Bellamy’s apartment as soon as she can.

It almost seems humorous, in a morbid way, that both of their parents were floated within a week of each other. She feels like laughing at how pathetic they both must be, two grieving messes trying to stay upright.

They decide with Wells that they’ll visit engineering tomorrow to try to find Kyle Wick, and then Clarke falls asleep on Bellamy’s chest.

 

They don’t find Kyle Wick in engineering, but they do find Raven Reyes.

“Wick’s out for the week, he’s got the flu. What do you need?”

Clarke’s standing behind Bellamy and Wells, looking at the floor to hide her still puffy eyes, but they both turn to her. They hadn’t planned on explaining their situation to anyone they weren’t sure of, and they both seem at a loss for what to do.

Clarke rolls her eyes at them and finally looks up to Raven, who jumps slightly when she sees her face.

“Whoa, what happened to you?”

“My dad got floated,” Clarke says, her voice dull.

“I’m really sorry about that,” Raven says, and she does _look_ sorry, “but what do you want from Wick?”

“I don’t know actually. My dad worked in engineering, and when he was hugging me just before…” Clarke trails off, then collects herself with a visible swallow. “He told me that I should talk to Kyle Wick in engineering. So…”

“Why was he floated?”

“I don’t know. That’s actually what we’re trying to find out.”

Raven’s about to say something, when she looks more closely at Wells. “Holy shit, are you the chancellor’s kid?”

“Yeah,” he says, a little uncomfortable, but he extends his hand all the same. “I’m Wells.”

Raven stares at his hand like she’s considering slapping it away, and he drops it.

“So your dad floated her dad?” She asks, glancing between him and Clarke.

“I mean, yeah-” he starts, but Raven cuts him off.

“So why don’t you just ask your precious father why?”

Wells scoffs. “Yeah, that’s not gonna work. And I already tried going through his things, there’s no hint of it anywhere. At least, not anything I could get access to.”

Raven looks back to Clarke. “What’s your dad’s name?”

“Jake Griffin,” she says quietly.

“Jesus Christ, your mom’s on the council, isn’t she? Is this a set up? I swear to God-”

“No,” Bellamy interrupts. “We’re just looking for answers.”

“Well I don’t have any.”

“Yeah, thanks anyway,” Bellamy says, grabbing Clarke’s hand and turning to leave. Wells follows, and just before they’re out the door, Raven says, resigned, “Wick will be back next week. He’ll probably be more interested in the big mystery than I am. I’d like to not get arrested and floated.”

Clarke shoots her a look over her shoulder, and she doesn’t even know what she’s trying to convey. She just knows that her father’s dead, and she doesn’t even know _why_. She’s not sure what Raven sees in her eyes, but her brow furrows before she breaks eye contact, and Clarke follows Bellamy down the hall.

 

The next day, Clarke is rifling through folders on her dad’s tablet, Wells sitting on the couch while she mumbles about how she doesn’t know what anything means, when there’s a knock on the door. Clarke and Wells glance at each other with confused looks. Bellamy’s on shift, and if Abby came home, she wouldn’t knock. Whoever it is pounds again, and Clarke puts the tablet away carefully before opening the door. She’s shocked to find Raven in the hallway, and steps back quickly so she can come inside.

“Is your mom home?” Raven asks as she pulls a surgical mask off her face and drops it in the waste bin by the door.

“No, she’s working. It’s just us,” Clarke says. “What’s going on?”

“I found out why your dad got floated. Or at least, a possible reason.”

“What, how?”

“I went to see Wick.”

“I thought you didn’t want to get involved,” Wells says accusingly, and Raven just shoots him a glare.

“I’m too curious for my own good.”

“Anyway,” Clarke interrupts, “What did you find out?”

Raven looks between Clarke and Wells, evaluating them. “We’re in like, a bubble here, right? No one else is gonna know about this?”

“Bellamy,” Clarke says instantly. “We’re going to tell Bellamy. But no one else.”

“And you trust Bellamy?” Raven asks.

“With my life,” Clarke rolls her eyes. “Are you going to tell us or not?”

“Yeah, sure.” Raven shrugs, then says, “The Ark is dying.”

“What?” Clarke and Wells ask in tandem.

“How much do you guys know about engineering?” Raven asks.

“Nothing at all.”

“Right, well, suffice it to say, we’re running out of oxygen. Our life support system isn’t functioning any longer, and we’ve got, I dunno, a few months left? It’s all very top secret, even Wick, who’s working on some of the issues, doesn’t know all the details. So my best guess is, well… you know your dad… what would he have done?”

All of the breath leaves Clarke’s lungs at once, because she knows immediately. “He would have wanted to tell everyone. He wouldn’t have wanted it to be a secret.”

Raven nods, a sympathetic look on her face. “So I’m guessing they stopped him before he could.”

Clarke turns away before Raven can see the tear streaking down her face, and starts fiddling with the tablet again. She’s in the pictures and videos section, they’re all images of her and her mother, just around their apartment, and Clarke presses play on an unfamiliar video of her dad without even thinking about it.

Raven moves behind her to watch, and Wells stands from the couch, putting a hand on Clarke’s shoulder. They listen to Jake explain the Ark’s system failure, and talk about coming together, as one, in this troubling time, before a group of guards bursts through the door behind him, cuffs him, and removes him from the apartment. Clarke’s crying after only a few seconds, but she holds the sobs down enough to listen. By the time it’s over, Wells is pulling her into his chest, quieting her sobs and making soothing sounds.

“I’m so sorry Clarke,” Wells says softly. She just shakes her head against his chest, unable to even say _it’s not your fault_.

“He, um,” Raven mutters, and Clarke looks up. “He seems like he was a good guy.”

“He was.” Clarke says. “Thank you, Raven, for finding out what happened.”  
“Yeah, sure,” she says as she makes her way to the door. “Um, if you decide to do anything about that, just… keep me updated.”

Clarke is too shocked to say anything, so Wells smiles at her and nods. “Will do.”

 

Clarke tells Bellamy the whole thing that night, sitting next to him in bed. She’s clinging to his hand like it’s the only stable thing on the Ark, and when she finishes, he’s silent for a moment before he whispers “I wish I could see Octavia.”

Clarke almost laughs. How did their entire world fall apart in less than two weeks?

“I hate this,” she says against his shoulder. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my goddamn life. I don’t know what to do.”

He presses a kiss against her hair. “Don’t do anything, then.”

“What?”

“This isn’t your responsibility, Clarke. You don’t have to do anything about it.”

“But- but people will die, Bellamy. In a few months, if Raven is right.”

“Yep, and we’ll be among them. If the Ark is dying, then so are we. So?” He shrugs.

She looks up at his face in confusion. “Are you okay?”

“Not really. My mom’s dead, Octavia’s locked up, I’m a janitor now, with no chance for advancement ever, thanks to my almost criminal record. I’ve got no friends except for you. So if I’m gonna die, who cares? I just wish I could see Octavia before it happens.”

“I care!” Clarke exclaims. “I care if you die! What the hell, Bellamy?”

He laughs, an almost delirious, tired sound. “You crazy, woman? If I die, you’re dying with me. Don’t think you’re getting out of this.”

She huffs, but sits back against his chest again. “Don’t talk like that, we’re not dying.”

“Oh yeah, what are you gonna do about it?” She can hear the smile in his voice, which is the stupidest thing, they’re talking about how the entire human race is going to be dead in a few months, and he’s _smiling_.

“I don’t know,” she says. “I’ll figure something out.”

“I’m sure you will,” he mumbles, and then he turns Clarke to face him, and kisses her.

They haven’t really kissed since his mother was floated, and even though it’s only been a week and a half, Clarke feels suddenly like she’s been drowning this whole time without him. Their mouths move softly while Bellamy holds her face between his hands, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. They make out for a few minutes, until Bellamy pulls away from her mouth and Clarke lets out a dissatisfied whimper. He just chuckles and tugs her down to the bed, and tells her to sleep. She curls against his chest, and though her mind should be racing over what she learned today, she drops off within minutes, Bellamy’s hand moving soothingly over her back.

 

Three days later, Clarke realizes her father floating was her mother’s fault, and Bellamy and Wells have to hold her back from storming to her family apartment to scream at her. The truth crept up on her until she couldn’t deny it anymore, and when she whispered it to the two of them, Wells and Bellamy just exchanged pained looks, turning to her with sympathy-filled eyes.

If she thought the grief was bad before, it’s unfathomable now, and in a brief moment of coherency, she realizes that nothing as she knew it will ever be the same.

Bellamy holds her as she sobs again that night, but the next morning, she wakes up with a steely expression on her face, and says “We have to decide what to do about all of this.”

He nods, but his stomach sinks, because Clarke looks reckless, and he doesn’t want to know what kind of trouble she’s going to set her mind on.

 

They’ve decided that Clarke can’t let her mother know they’ve discovered what they have, so Clarke still has to go see her, and it makes her feel sick to pretend that nothing’s wrong, beyond the obvious. To let her mother hug her, and suggest taking more hours in the med-bay, saying the distraction might help. She declines politely, telling Abby that she’s spending her extra time making sure Bellamy is okay, which is _sort of_ true. Mostly, Bellamy is the one making sure she’s okay.

They visit Raven at work again, but she can’t come up with any solutions to the Ark’s oxygen problem. The only thing any of them can think to do is exactly what Jake tried, and what he was killed for. And even that, telling the whole Ark that they’re going to die, isn’t actually a solution.

It’s a courtesy, more than anything.

 

“Isn’t it funny,” Bellamy says a few days later, when they’re lying in bed waiting to fall asleep.

“Hmm?” Clarke asks.

“Before, I was worried that Octavia wouldn’t be pardoned. But now, it won’t even matter. We’re all gonna die no matter what.”

Clarke’s silent for a moment. “That’s not funny, Bellamy.”

“No,” he agrees. “Nothing’s funny anymore.”

 

When Clarke sits down at the measly table in Bellamy’s apartment to tell him and Wells that she’s going to follow through on her father’s plan to tell the entire Ark about the system flaw, Bellamy stands up so fast that his chair falls backward.

“Clarke, that’s not a good idea,” Wells says calmly, appealing to her rationale. “How are you even going to do that?”

“I was planning on breaking into communications, and broadcasting the video that my father made.”

“So you’re going on a suicide mission?” Bellamy yells, his voice hard and angry.

“No, of course not!”

“But you’ll be caught. You know that! And you’re just going to walk right into it.”

“Someone has to tell the people, Bellamy!”

“That’s not your responsibility!”

“Clarke, he’s right,” Wells interjects, keeping his voice level. “This is why we have leaders. The council obviously decided that it’s best for the people not to know about this. You should let them do their jobs.”

“They decided wrong!” She cries.

“They’ll float you Clarke!” Bellamy shouts, and silence descends on the tiny room. “You’re nineteen years old, you’re planning to break the law, and even if you didn’t get caught in the act, it will be enough that it’s your father’s video. No matter how you do this, it ends with you being floated. You know they won’t even think twice about it. Are you really going to tell me that this isn’t because you’re so messed up with grief that you can’t even think? That this isn’t just a convenient way of getting out of it, while being able to call yourself a martyr right before they open the airlock?”

“Bellamy,” Clarke says softly, “that’s not-”

“I’ve lost _everyone_.” Bellamy says sharply. “Everything I had is gone, and I never had that much to begin with! I’ve lost everyone I love – my mom, my sister. Everyone except you. But that’s not enough I guess. Now you’re going to make me lose you too. My _best friend_. You’re fucking- you’re going to take that away from me.”

Wells stands slowly from the table and nods to Clarke. “I’m gonna go. Let me know what you decide.”

Clarke and Bellamy watch as he walks out. Once the door is closed, she stands and walks to Bellamy, but he flinches away from her hands when she reaches for him.

“Don’t touch me,” he says, his voice scathing. “Not if you’re just going to take it away.”

“Bellamy, I want to do what’s right,” she pleads.

“And getting yourself killed is right? There is no right in this situation Clarke. If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t even know about the oxygen.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? I can’t just sit here knowing this and doing nothing!”

“I don’t have an answer for you, Clarke.” His voice is still flinty, but quieter. “I don’t know. We wait. We keep our ears open. We keep talking to Raven. We’ll think of something.”

“They deserve to know,” she says helplessly.

“Are you really going to make me lose you? I _can’t_ lose you, Clarke. I can’t. Fuck, please don’t put me through that.” His eyes are filled with tears, and Clarke moves forward, but he backs away, shaking his head.

“I won’t, okay?” she says, crying now too. “I won’t do it, will you please let me touch you?”

She can barely see his nod through her tears, but she rushes to pull him against her chest, her arms banding desperately around his waist.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers against her hair. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she says fiercely. “I won’t.”

“Promise me.”

She pulls back from the embrace to grab his face, holding eye contact. “I promise, Bellamy. Only decisions we make together. I promise you.”

“Okay,” he murmurs, and then kisses her. Clarke pushes into it immediately, gripping his hair. She hitches one leg up around his hip, and he understands quickly, leaning down to grab the backs of her thighs and lift her. She wraps her legs firmly around his waist as he carries her to the bed, sets her down gently, and then crawls on top of her.

She grabs his ass as he kisses her again, grinding up against him and moaning softly when she feels his erection through his pants. She pushes his shirt up to run her hands over his back, then rolls them over.

“You have to promise too,” she says, looking down at his lust-filled eyes as she rolls her hips gently over his.

“What do you want me to promise?” he asks, his voice low and serious.

“We decide everything together.”

“Okay,” he says, holding her eye contact. “We’ll decide everything together. I promise.”

The warmth in his voice makes Clarke shiver, so she nods and sits up to pull his shirt off, then her own. Bellamy swears quietly when she drops her bra to the floor, and immediately reaches up to touch her breasts, the soft grasps and light scratching of his short fingernails making her breathe heavily and push into his hands.

When he reaches for her face to pull her down for a kiss, she shakes her head. “Sit up,” she says softly, “against the wall.”

The muscles straining in his arms catch her attention as he does what she asked, and Clarke ducks her head to leave a trail of kisses over his bicep, before she bites gently and feels as much as hears all the breath whoosh out of him. She moves her lips slowly up his shoulder, pausing to drag her teeth over her favorite spots, up his neck and across his jaw until she’s hovering over his mouth.

He leans up to catch her lips, too impatient to wait. Clarke moans and rolls her hips again, pulling a groan from his throat. His hands reach for her ass, guiding her movements against him as she kisses him into oblivion.

“Clarke,” he says after a moment. She can feel his cock pressing against her and whimpers at the rush of arousal that floods through her when she hears his voice, ragged and desperate.

She unbuttons his pants, then moves off of him and stands next to the bed to pull off her own bottoms and underwear, watching as Bellamy scrambles out of his and tosses them to the floor. It’s only a moment before she’s straddling him again, bracing her hands against his chest and rutting against him with no layers between them this time, her eyes falling closed at how good it feels already.

Then she’s grabbing his cock, aligning their bodies, and sinking onto him. Bellamy grasps her face between his hands.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks, sounding worried.

Clarke nods, her nose brushing over his cheek, and lifts her hips to push them down again. “This is perfect,” she says, and then Bellamy’s moving to thrust up into her, meeting her downward strokes.

He drops his hands to run them over her thighs, finally settling on her hips to help her as she moves in small, quick thrusts. She’s sweating and panting from the exertion, one of her hands pressed against the wall next to his head and the other roaming from his hair, to his face, over his chest and abs and shoulder.

Bellamy strokes her clit with his thumb, making Clarke cry out and bury her face in his neck, biting down as she speeds up.

“Clarke, fuck,” he mutters.

“Bell,” she breathes in response, kissing his neck sloppily. She works her way to his face, and then drops light kisses over the freckles on his cheeks. He catches her lips just as he thumbs her clit harder, and it’s all she can do to keep her hips moving and moan into his mouth.

“God, Bellamy, oh God, right there,” she moans again, and Bellamy keeps going, thrusting into her and rubbing her clit. She comes with soft, pleasured shouts, her open mouth pressed against his, not quite kissing, because neither of them can focus enough to do that, as the waves of pleasure jolt through her.

She drops her head to his shoulder, breathing heavily and pausing for a moment, before she leans up to kiss him. “Sorry,” she mumbles, “You’re not done yet.”

He nibbles at her bottom lip, and grips her hips again. She ducks her head and looks down to where his cock is pushing into her, whimpering at the aftershocks of her orgasm pulsing through her every time he groans and pulls her harder onto him.

She runs one hand through his hair, gripping tightly, and plants the other on his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin and muscle until he comes with a shuddering moan, dropping his head back against the wall and gulping in heaving breaths.

She giggles, a small, relieved kind of laugh, and Bellamy frowns at her, but she just smiles softly.

“Everything’s so fucked up, with my dad, and my mom, and the whole fucking Ark falling apart around us, and everything with your family, but… we’re still,” she shrugs, “us, I guess. We’re still us.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy replies, his voice gruff. “We’re still us. We always will be.”

Clarke nods, and kisses him, because there’s no point denying now that she’s in deep with him. It’s stupid, she tells herself, with her tongue in his mouth and him kissing her back just as hard, that her stomach flipped when he called her his best friend, when he screamed that he couldn’t lose her, too. She knows she would still be this important to him, even if they had never started sleeping together, and she feels warm just thinking about it. She thought, after everything that’s happened, that maybe she was starting to be past feeling, but she realizes now that there’s no such thing as past feeling with Bellamy.

They kiss for a few minutes, and Clarke likes it this way – no rush to get home so her mom won’t suspect who she’s with, and the sex already out of the way. They’re just pouring themselves into each other, unhurried and content, and she’s glad they’ve had time to ignore the rest of their problems in favor of each other, even for just a little while.

Clarke grabs his hands to unwind his arms from around her, then moves off him to go to the bathroom. She tosses him a washcloth to clean up with, and when she gets back to bed, he’s settled in and waiting for her.

She curls into his side immediately, and Bellamy turns into her, brushing her hair away from her face and rubbing his hand soothingly over her back.

“We’ll think of something, okay? We won’t just sit around waiting to die. We’ll figure it out.”

“Okay,” she says, nuzzling against his chest. “We’ll figure something out.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not totally confident about this fic. I ended up writing out a lot of parts that I had thought I would summarize, and writing smut is still a bit new for me. So please let me know how you feel about it (polite criticism is welcome!) especially if you're into it, so I'll feel inspired for the last chapter.


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